Breastfeeding After Sexual Abuse
How Breastfeeding Healed Wounds I Didn't Even Know I Had
The very first time I ever breastfed a baby, on the delivery bed in the hospital just minutes after my son was born, I did not have an anxiety attack.� This is notable only because it was the only time I ever nursed my first son that I didn't.� I know that sounds a bit horrific, especially after I tell you that my first son nursed until he was 18 months old, but it wasn't at all unusual or upsetting for me.�
I've had these episodes my entire life, at least once or twice a day, sometimes much more often than that.� As a child, I never even connected them to their cause; it just happened that sometimes I would experience a sinking feeling in my stomach, my heart would race, bile would rise in my throat, and even if I was with my mother, a panicked cry would rise in my mind: "Where's my Mom???"� These were rarely noticeable to anyone else.� If I ever mentioned them to anyone, which I don't remember doing, I was undoubtedly told that everyone gets nervous sometimes.� Sometime during my teenage years I realized that these mild attacks were caused by nipple stimulation; even something as gentle as my clothing brushing against them could trigger one.� Even so, I never considered them to be anything sinister, or even anything out of the ordinary.� I knew that other girls didn't feel that way when their nipples were touched, but I just assumed it was a normal variation; after all, I knew people who hated to have their feet touched, or had sensitive belly-buttons or ears, and besides, nothing had ever happened to me that would explain why I had such a reaction.
I realize that as you are reading this, it is quite clear what happened.� Aside from the fact that I've said from the start that this is a story about breastfeeding after sexual abuse, I have gone back over my history and pulled all the puzzle pieces out of the pile and put them together for you.� You must realize, however, that for me, this was not only completely unclear to me, it wasn't even something I considered to be a problem.� During the time when I was nursing my first son, I may have mentioned it to a grand total of two people, and then only as a curiosity.� I seem to recall that they immediately asked about sexual abuse, and I told them, no, I'd never been abused at all.� One person, my midwife, was very close to me, and she suggested repressed memories, but after some thought on the matter, I decided that was not it, since I didn't have any blank spots in my memory, no other unfounded fears or anxieties, nothing else at all that would suggest that was the key.� I didn't even realize that what I was feeling was a panic or anxiety attack; I'd seen people who had those and they were much more severe than what I experienced.
So what was it like to breastfeed my baby like this?� Actually, it was a lot like any other breastfeeding experience.� I took care of my baby just like many other breastfeeding mothers; I changed his diapers, gave him baths, played on the floor with him, carried him in a sling...and when he was hungry, I nursed him.� Every time he latched on, I would experience some manifestation of my usual anxiety; usually the sinking feeling, sometimes my hands would tremble slightly, or I'd feel butterflies in my stomach or hear that cry in mind: "Where's my Mom???"� Fortunately, breastfeeding doesn't actually provide a lot of stimulation directly on the nipple, so as soon as he was properly latched on and nursing, those anxious feelings subsided and I enjoyed cuddling with my little one as my body provided warm, perfect milk for him to grow and be healthy.� I would stroke his hair and hold his hand, and delight in his milky smiles just like other breastfeeding moms do with their babies.
I weaned my first son when he was 18 months old, and I was about five months pregnant with his brother.� In the first months of nursing my second son, it was the same as it had been with my first; some minor anxious feelings as he latched on, which quickly went away and then I enjoyed each nursing session.� But at some point during those months, the anxious feelings very slowly and gradually went away completely.� Remember that they were never really more than a minor annoyance to me, and I never gave them much thought, so I can't really say for sure when the episodes stopped, just that one day I realized that I hadn't felt them for a long time.� This was a benefit not only to breastfeeding, but to other areas of my life as well, including sex.� I also remember how refreshing it was to walk outside and not worry that a cool breeze would trigger an attack!
The last anxiety attack I had was over five years ago.� I remember it very clearly because it was the one I felt when I finally remembered the abuse that had started it all.� My third baby was just three or four months old at the time, and I had just gone to bed.� My baby was asleep next to me, my husband on the other side of him, my older sons in a bed in the same room.� I felt happy and content at that moment, blessed with such a wonderful family.� As I let my thoughts wander and tried to drift towards sleep, I suddenly had an image of being lifted by a giant.� My first reaction was amusement; where had this silly idea come from?� My amusement was quickly swept away as I realized that the person lifting me wasn't huge, I was just very small.� I experienced a full-blown anxiety attack; every sensation I'd ever felt separately in response to having my nipples touched all came at me at once.� My heart pounded, my body stiffened and froze, my throat choked with bile as my stomach churned and my bowels turned to water, my hands shook, and that familiar cry in my mind was now a scream: "WHERE'S MY MOM???"� As I experienced these sensations, I felt my body being lifted.� I was being picked up just like all adults pick up children, with his hands under my armpits, only he had his thumbs on my nipples and he was very deliberately rubbing them.� I was completely, absolutely terrified, and I wanted only to return to the safe, loving arms of my mother, who was almost certainly completely unaware of the source of my fear.
Afterwards, probably just a few seconds later, I lay in my safe, warm bed, surrounded by people who loved me, in total shock.� I don't remember how long I laid there, finally putting all the pieces of that puzzle together, finally understanding the root of this daily event in my life, most of all amazed that that one, single event had created such a lasting affect in my life.� It was as if that man had abused me over and over again every single day of my life, every time I experienced those anxiety attacks.� I was so angry at him, especially since I realized that it was most likely something he, being a molester, would never remember having done, a reflex to him, something small and insignificant that left a huge impact on my life.� I was angry that his actions had threatened my ability to breastfeed my children; what if I had remembered it before my babies were born?� What if I had been forced to remember him every time I nursed my babies?
Before I fell asleep that night, I got up and kissed my children, silently thanking them for releasing me from his grasp.� I realized that even though I hadn't consciously remembered what happened, I had still been remembering the abuse on some level, and that each time I nursed my sweet, innocent babies, it was as if they were chipping away at the terrified response that had been imprinted on me, until finally it was replaced with a new response.� In spite of my shock, I remember that I went to sleep that night amazed at the simple power of breastfeeding.
Breastfeeding healed my emotional scars from sexual abuse, even though I had no conscious realization that they were there.� Breastfeeding released me from the lasting effects of sexual abuse, effects that I experienced every day for most of my life.� I would never have believed that breastfeeding could be so powerful as to overcome something that had been so completely ingrained in my life that I did not even question it as being wrong.� I realize that compared to others, my abuse was small and minor; some will read this and think "Oh, that was nothing compared to what I went through!"� I do not want to minimize other womens' experiences;� everyone is unique and has different responses to trauma.� Breastfeeding helped me with the most traumatic experience of my entire life; and it could help with yours, too.�
If you are having problems with breastfeeding and you are worried that they could be related to sexual abuse (whether you remember it or not), understand that it doesn't really matter one way or the other. Even mothers who weren't abused sometimes have ambivilant feelings about breastfeeding. There are things you can do to overcome any negative emotions you are experiencing, and they are the same things whether you were abused or not. Talk to a La Leche League leader or a lactation consultant about what you're feeling; you don't even have to mention sexual abuse if you don't want to, because as I mentioned before, their advice will be the same.� As you can see from my experience, you don't have to confront any issues or conquer any demons in order to continue breastfeeding or for breastfeeding to help you.
If you are afraid to breastfeed because you've been sexually abused, please, ask yourself:� Do I want my abuser to not only continue to abuse me by affecting this decision that should be mine alone, but also to abuse my baby by depriving him of all the benefits of breastmilk and breastfeeding?� Do I want to pass up the chance that breastfeeding could help me heal from the abuse?
Related Links:
La Leche League "Overcoming the Past"
Breastfeed.com "Beyond Abuse"
Email
(Footnote:� I want to state that the only reason I am sharing this story anonymously is because my mother does not know it, and I do not wish for her to ever know it.� Yes, I know that it's not my job to protect my mother, and in most cases I agree, but I am an emotionally healthy, stable adult and I have no need to work this out with my mother.� It would not lead to any greater understanding or emotional healing on my part, and it would greatly distress my mother, who has always feared that she failed her children as a mother, even though she did a truly amazing job.)
